


You Should Be Scared

by a_nonny_moose



Category: jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: Knives, LOTS of violence, n' such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 12:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14355609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_nonny_moose/pseuds/a_nonny_moose
Summary: Writer's block? What writer's block?Schneeplestein is missing.





	You Should Be Scared

“ _You should be afraid._ ”

“Of what?”

“ _Not what_.” The light overhead flickered and went out. “ _Of who._ ”

“I’m not—" his voice caught in his throat, jumping at shadows. “I’m not afraid of you.”

A low chuckle, the feeling of sharpened steel dragged through skin. “ _Oh, precious puppet.”_ Clinking, and he looked around in panic, eyes straining at the darkness. “ _You should be._ ”

* * *

“My name—my—”

“ _Louder._ ”

“My name is Henrik—Doctor Henrik von Schneeplestien.”

“ _And_?”

“And I am—” he looked up, behind the camera, a flash of fear. “I am here against my will.”

“ _Very good.”_

“Please—” his voice shook, tears blurring the script. “Please help me. Please, for the love of God, _help_ _me_.”

A _click_ , and the camera shut off. The doctor leaned forward in his chair, as best he could with restraints biting into his wrists, and he cried. 

There was a hand against his cheek, bruises far too sensitive, and he didn’t even have the consciousness to flinch. “ _Well done, my dear._ ” It was too warm, too familiar: and for all the hot tears running down his face, Schneeplestein shivered. 

“Please, please help me,” echoed through the halls.

But nobody came. 

* * *

“ _You thought you could save him_.”

“I knew I could have.”

“ _But you didn’t_.” It was circling, prowling, too close against the back of his neck.

“I—I tried—”

“ _But you didn’t._ ”

Schneeplestein struggled, hating the hot, wet breath in his ear. “I did what I could—” 

“ _Not enough._ ”

“I—I didn’t mean—"

The blade of a knife, cold metal to flushed skin. “ _Not anymore_.”

“Please—”

“ _Please, what?”_ It was spat, vitriolic, into his ear.

“Please, I wanted to save him.” I wanted to save you.”

“ _Is wanting ever good enough?”_ The knife was pressed tighter, blood itching, beading. “ _Now, ‘please,’ what?”_

“Please—” he swallowed, breath hitching. “Don’t kill me.”

A hum, something like satisfaction, and the knife was pulled away. Schneeplestein doubled over, relief fighting fear fighting adrenaline. “ _He **begs**. What a good puppet._ ”

“What—” he breathed, rocking the boat, “what do you want from me?”

“ _What do you think_?”

“I—I already failed to save him,” the Doctor said, looking at the ground, flickering static in the corners of his vision. He didn’t dare look. He didn’t dare close his eyes. “What do you want—that you don’t already have?”

“ _Clever, this one.”_ Stomping feet, coming closer. “ _Very, very clever._ ” A hand forced Schneeplestein’s head up, claws around his throat.

He looked into eyes, eyes that shouldn’t have been humanly possible: green and black and crinkled into a smile. When he—it—spoke, it was with razor-sharp teeth and a silver tongue. “ _My dearest Doctor,_ ” it hissed, and Schneeplestein saw the glint of a blade whet with his own blood, “ _you’ve already given it to me._ ”

He didn’t speak, struggling even to breathe, as it released his jaw. “ _Repeat.”_

“Wh—what?” 

It—he—what did he call himself? —stepped back, making a show of licking blood from his fingers. “ _Tell them—”_ a red recording light flicked on, “— _how you could have saved him_.” A pause. “ _Tell them how you didn’t_.”

“But I—”

“ _Go on._ ” He walked away, and Schneeplestein, fixated on the camera, didn’t see where he’d gone until the knife was at his throat again. The blade warm, sticking to his skin, sticking to the open wound. “ _Use that pretty voice of yours._ ” 

Anti. His name was Anti. 

“I—I—”

“ _I want you to say it.”_

“I—I killed him.”

“ _That’s right.”_ Anti crooned in his ear. “ _Again._ ”

“I killed—I killed Jack.”

“ _Why did you do it?”_ Anti almost simpered, digging. “ _Why’d you do it, Doc?”_

“I could have—”

“ _You could’ve saved him._ ”

“I didn’t save him.”

“ _Oh, but you were so close._ ”

“I failed him.” The camera was unblinking, unwavering, and Schneeplestein looked away. No one would see the tapes. Everyone would see the tapes. No one would know. Everyone would know. 

Did it matter?

“ _Now, doesn’t that feel nice? Admitting it?_ ” The knife withdrew, the tip etching a line down Schneeplestein’s throat. 

He looked down, seeing the red light flick off. Tears were fewer, now, rolling into his lap. 

Anti’s hand came down across his cheek, hot with electricity, excitement. “ _Oh, Doctor. Don’t cry. This is only a bad dream.”_

Schneeplestein leaned into the warmth for a moment. It was cold, so cold. 

Anti snatched his hand away, laughing, claws grazing the side of Schneeplestein’s face. “ _And you’re never waking up.”_


End file.
